


Regarding Daryl

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memories, Past Child Abuse, Praise Kink, learning to talk, learning to walk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:02:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: Daryl Dixon wakes from a coma.  He can’t talk; he can’t move; and he doesn’t know who he is.  As he regains consciousness, questions abound.Whowashe?  Whoishe?  Who will he become?And can his physical therapist Rick Grimes help give him a second chance at life.





	1. Shake Dreams From Your Hair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotr58](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotr58/gifts).



> Fair warning it's only eleven chapters. I struggled with this one for months. Wrote, deleted, wrote again, deleted again and well... here's what I came up with. Hope you will all buckle in for the ride.
> 
> This fic is dedicated to LOTR58 who gave me the prompt oh so long ago. Her idea was based on the Harrison Ford movie, Regarding Henry. So here it is!
> 
> She also beta'd it! So all in all, she's wonderful.

He woke. His nose was filled with the scent of antiseptic and bleach. The light was too bright in his eyes and he squinted against it, finally surrendering to the fluorescent glow and leaving them closed. He was tired, exhausted, his head hurt...and that was all he knew. He fluttered his eyelashes against the bright light again and looked around the room to see a nurse facing the computer as she typed. Had he been in an accident? What happened? And most importantly...who was he? 

He tried to sort out a name in his head, but he came up with nothing. His thoughts were just jumbles of confusion. A flash of a pack of cigarettes, an image of a forest, a cantaloupe so ripe he could almost smell it, an empty cloudless sky, then blank white nothingness. None of it made sense. It was as if he was trapped in a strange dream.

He wanted to say something to the nurse, anything. But he struggled to remember how to speak and nothing came out when he parted his dry, cracked lips. He was disoriented beyond belief and frankly wouldn’t have even known what to ask if he still had the strength to make words. When you had no answers, you had no idea what questions to ask first.

Suddenly the nurse turned to him and dropped her jaw. “Oh my goodness! Mr. Dixon, you’re awake!” she said, surprised. “I’ll...I’ll get the doctor. Hold on.” She practically ran out of the room calling for a Dr. Greene. Overwhelmed and confused, the patient closed his eyes again, hoping for sleep so he could wake up from this nightmare to a place that made sense, a place that seemed familiar.

As he lay on the hospital bed, he knew he should want to get up and...do something. But what? He felt like he had things undone, worries, but his mind was a blank slate, a giant empty cavern full of dark shadows and dim corners. There was a struggle between his mind and his body. _Get up_ , he told himself, forcing his eyes back open. But the thought got lost on its way from his brain to his legs. He couldn’t seem to control anything. He looked up again at the light above him and watched it as the brightness grew dimmer, darker around the edges, until eyelashes fluttered shut and he drifted off to a dream-filled sleep

\----------------

_He was standing on a cliff looking down at a frothing ocean. The noise of the waves crashing against the rocks filled his ears with a sound like never ending rolls of thunder undulating across the flatness of the midwestern plains. The fall looked like forever and he was afraid of it, afraid to fall. But when he turned around he was also afraid to walk away._

“Daryl. Daryl.”

He opened his eyes, the memories of the dream dripping off him like beads of sweat on a hot cloudless day.

A strange face was leaning down towards him flashing a light into his eyes. “Do you know what day it is, Daryl?”

Daryl? Was that a name? Was it his name? It didn’t feel right, like trying on the wrong size shoe. But this doctor seemed to think he was in fact named Daryl.

The doctor had white hair, a friendly smile, and he wore a name tag that had jumbles of letters Daryl couldn’t read. He parted his lips, wanting to answer the question, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work. And even if he could, he didn’t know the answer anyway, so he remained silent.

“Daryl, you’ve been in a fight…”

“Doc!” a new voice shouted, interrupting. Daryl tried to will his head to turn so he could see this new person that seemingly burst into his room, but he couldn’t do anything more than wobble his head back and forth. He was already growing frustrated with his limitations.

“Doc, you just about to tell my baby brother here about what happened? Let me do the honors. Baby bro, you got in a fight with...ummm...a couple of those bad seeds on the south side of the trailer park. You won. No other questions needed. The end.”

The doctor looked just as surprised as Daryl felt. It must have been one hell of a fight to knock all the memories out of this head and render his body useless. He wanted to cry. Frustrated about not being able to talk or move properly, he closed his eyes to block out the confusing world around him, the unfamiliar voices, and he felt the damp trail of tears spill out the corners of his eyes.

He listened as the two men whispered in the corner, picking up on a few words here and there. _Pa. Prison. No need to remember._ Daryl tried to work out the puzzle of words, but it was too hard to concentrate with everything else on his mind and he dozed off again as the murmur of voices sang him to sleep.

The next time he opened his eyes he could hear his stomach growling. There was a tray of food left by his bedside. Some kind of casserole, green beans, a roll, and some applesauce. He instructed his hand to reach up for the fork, but like all of his other movements, it didn’t do as he directed. After a few frustrating minutes a man came into the room. He wasn’t dressed like the other doctors, but he seemed to belong in the surroundings. He had too-long curls and just a hint of early grey in his beard. Looking at the clipboard he was holding, the older man leaned on the edge of the bed.

“Well, you probably think this situation is never gonna change, Daryl,” the man said. “I’m here to tell you that I’m going to get those arms and legs moving again. Fingers and toes and everything, so don’t be scared about being paralyzed. You won’t be. You just need some help to relearn everything, okay? We’re going to get you back on your feet again together. You and me, okay?”

Daryl attempted to nod, but couldn’t really tell what his neck ended up accomplishing. 

“My name’s Rick Grimes by the way. I’ll be your physical therapist.”

Parting his lips, Daryl attempted to speak. He wanted to ask for help with the food. He was unsuccessful in voicing his thoughts, but his stomach growled again and Rick heard it. 

“Let me help you with your dinner. I’ll have you eating on your own in no time,” Rick said as he lifted up a spoonful of the casserole and blew on it. “But no lessons yet. You still have some more recovery to do before we hit the good stuff. Can you open your mouth for me?” 

Daryl managed to open his mouth like a baby bird, the smell of the food possibly helping with the muscle memory of eating. He closed his mouth around the spoon. 

“Chew it up good,” Rick instructed with a gentle, patient voice as he scooped up a little of the rice mixture from Daryl’s chin.

The younger man was too tired and confused to feel embarrassed about being fed like a child. He just knew he was hungry and this was how food would get into his stomach.

“I know it’s not the best meal you ever had and nothing for dessert but lime jello, but the good news is that tomorrow is Wednesday and that’s orange Jello day. That’s the best of all the Jello’s in my opinion.

Taking a break from spoonfuls of the main course, Rick took a moment to pull off a piece of bread from the roll and he held it to Daryl’s lips. 

“Open again, buddy. You can do it,”

Daryl struggled a bit to get his mouth to open wide enough, but he managed it and Rick dropped the pinch of bread on his tongue like communion.

“So, since you don’t have much to say yet, I’ll handle the talking, how’s that?” Rick asked rhetorically.

“So I just had another roommate move out. That’s two in a year. So something must be wrong with me, right? It can’t be a coincidence,” Rick said. 

“Why did he move out, you ask? Well, basically people are assholes and sometimes they find out something about you that makes them hate you. I mean, not like he found out I’m a serial killer...which I’m not, just for the record. But just something that makes me me and doesn’t hurt or affect anyone else. That has to be it.”

Daryl finished every bite off his plate as Rick sat there, talking and feeding him. He went into a long monologue about exactly why the orange Jello was the best. Cherry tasted too much like medicine. Lemon too much like dish soap. The lime one just looked too much like mold and the blue one wasn’t even named for fruit. It was just the “blue one”. And according to Rick, that made it suspect.

Once Daryl was done eating and listening to Rick’s soft, comforting voice he noticed the dampness on his own cheeks. Had he been crying… _again_? He looked back to Rick like he was a lifeline in stormy waters.

“It’s gonna be okay, Daryl,” he said soothingly. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise you.” Rick brushed some hair out of Daryl’s eyes and the younger man nearly flinched at the gentle caress. 

“I’m just going to turn you over and give you a massage to keep you from getting bed sores. Can you be good for me and just lie calmly and let me do my work? You’ll feel much better.”

Daryl again attempted a nod though the thought of hands on him made him oddly uncomfortable, as if he should be shrinking away, not relaxing his arm into Rick’s warm hands. As the physical therapist worked on muscles and knots and got the blood flowing, Daryl watched him with narrowed eyes. Suspicious. Why was he...being nice? Something in Daryl told him this was a thing he wasn’t used to. He supposed not if he got in a fight with a bunch of neighborhood kids.

“It’s good to be relaxed, Daryl. You’re only job here is to get yourself back to how you were. Walking,talking...laughing, I hope. You have some pretty deep frown lines, kid. I’m gonna make it my mission to get a smile on that face.

Did he? Did he not have a lot to smile about in life? He could feel Rick’s hands so he knew he hadn’t completely disappeared into his own body. He was alive. He could _feel_. He was lulled into a sense of calmness as Rick rubbed and massaged each arm and each leg. He turned Daryl onto his side and worked a little on his shoulders. Daryl was so torn about the feel of the other man’s hands. In one sense he feared each touch, expecting something more nefarious, but on the other hand, he felt pleasure in the connection to another person, the feel of gentle skin on skin. Daryl wondered if he had always been so drawn to this kind of touch.

“So I’m reading this book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down,” Rick said, attempting not to laugh at his own bad joke.

For the first time, Daryl smiled, just a lift of his lips on one side of his mouth, but it was there. 

“I knew you were in there somewhere, buddy. We’ll get you out,” Rick said as he rolled Daryl onto his stomach and worked his soft fingers into Daryl’s uncooperative neck. “And it’s a good thing you like bad jokes because I got a ton of them.”


	2. People are Strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad to have so many of you reading. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

When Daryl opened his eyes there was a new woman he’d never seen before looking at him. She had short grey hair and a gentle expression. Daylight was pouring in the window and the sound of gurneys squeaked by in the hallway.

“Hi there,” the woman said. “My name is Carol and I’ll be your speech therapist. We’re going to move slow so I don’t want you to be frustrated. I know there’s a lot you must want to say and ask.”

Daryl wanted to nod at least. He willed himself to do it, but his head wouldn’t cooperate as if he were a prisoner in his own body.

“We’re just going to work for a little while, okay? Let’s just try noises. Can you make the A sound? Aaahhhh.”

Daryl’s lips parted as he tried to push a voice out of his throat. He couldn’t remember how to make the sound catch. Dr. Greene was right. He was going to be frustrated. He managed to pick up his head and slam it back against the pillow a few times and Carol rested a hand on his chest. “Calm down. It’s not easy to remember, I know. Don’t worry if it’s hard. I’ll get you there, sweetie. I promise. Let’s just think about it for a few minutes, okay? Aaahhhh. Like Aaapple. Like Aaamazing. Aaaahhh,” she repeated.

Daryl pushed with all his might against his throat and croaked out a barely audible “ah”.

“There it is, sweetie! Feel how it caught? You are already on your way. Let’s do it again. Ahhhh”

The time Carol spent with Daryl was exhausting and he fell asleep again shortly after she left the room. He’d made ahhh sounds and eeee sounds and a handful of consonants. He still couldn’t string together a word or a sentence or sort one out in his head. Most of his thoughts were in vagueness. Hunger. Sorrow. Struggle. Anger. Confusion. Frustration. He couldn’t believe how tiring it could be just to make noises. 

**********

“Hey bro.”

Daryl woke to a gruff, grungy voice and a poke in the ribs.

“How ya hanging in there baby brother?”

Daryl’s eyes couldn’t quite lock on any one thing. His vision was blurry but it appeared to be the same man from the day before. A brother? _His_ brother?

“Doctors said I should talk to yah, tell you about your life. Help yah remember y’know. Let me start out with this -- Might be nice if yah don’t remember all the stupid shit I done, okay? And like other shit. You wanna hear about who you were…who you _are_?” Merle asked as he pulled a chair closer to the bed and got comfortable

Daryl rolled his head around in a circle in response and attempted to say yes, but it only came out as “Yyyy”. 

“Well, here’s the skinny. You’re a good kid. Seventeen, gonna be a senior in high school. You did NOT want to drop out and you can’t wait til next school year. You hearing me? You’re strong and brave and don’t let nobody tell you otherwise. You don’t do no drugs. Oh, and you’re straight,” Merle added. “Don’t think too much on that one. Just...you are, okay?”

Daryl blinked in response, taking in all the offered information, barely able to make sense of it. 

“You’re the kinda guy who finds an old rag doll and goes out searching for a missing girl. You found her, too, kid, when you was just seven. Little local hero. Cops wouldn’t give our neighborhood the time of day, but you found that damn girl lost in the woods. You the kinda guy who knows right from wrong and by God somehow, despite being a damn Dixon, you always lean towards right. But even so, you the kinda guy who covers for your brother without question. So when you get up and out of all this, I ain’t gonna raz you no more ‘bout being a pussy. Cause almost losing you…”

Merle’s words got caught in his throat. “Just that’s all.”

Daryl listened and tried to file away information while still wondering about his basic life story. _Where were his parents? Where did he live? How long had he been in the hospital? How long would it take to get out?_

Merle talked a while longer, mostly about this imaginary bright future and various other vague thoughts that Daryl couldn’t concentrate on any longer. But he did like the company and the sound of a friendly voice, gruff as it may be.

Daryl let his eyes flutter shut during the conversation and he concentrated again on his current situation: he was having trouble recalling his memories, he struggled to move his body, he only knew what was right in front of him. A sterile hospital, a brother he didn’t really remember, a Doctor named Hershel, a speech therapist named Carol. A man named Rick whose hands and voice melted him into rare comfort. His brother was Merle. And the Jello on Wednesdays was orange. It was a start, he supposed. A base of new memory.

“So the best Christmas you had was when I got you that crossbow. You remember that?” Merle continued.

Daryl looked at Merle blankly, unsure if he had the muscle control to smile or if he just couldn’t feel happy for a memory that didn’t seem to belong to him.

“Well, maybe you will when you see it.” Merle sat awkwardly for a few minutes as he ran out of conversation, then stood. “Well, they don’t want me to overwork yah, so I’m out. Keep getting better, baby brother. I miss you,” Merle said, dripping with sincerity so honest that Daryl wished he could somehow respond.

After Merle left, the younger Dixon had more questions instead of just a swirl of ambivalent emptiness. He wanted to be a real person again. He wanted to remember. He wanted to talk. He didn’t want to be a zombie anymore. He didn’t want to keep sleeping, he thought as he fell fast asleep.  
\-------------------------------

“I hear you still don’t have much to say yet,” Rick said as he waltzed in and lowered the rails on the bed. “And that’s okay because I can talk enough for two. I got you covered.”

Daryl startled awake and remembered that he didn’t remember. Rick poked and prodded at each arm and leg, then focused on Daryl’s right hand. He massaged it as he spoke and he slowly worked his fingers up to Daryl’s forearm.

“It’s orange Jello day!” I’m thinking maybe we can give this hand a workout soon. Try feeding yourself, huh? Personally, I’d like being fed. It’s a drag really. Hand up, hand down, gets monotonous, but you strike me as the type that don’t want to be doted on. Am I right? Don’t answer, I’m right. I can read people. I’m good at that.” 

Daryl was trying to follow the conversation and he felt himself smile.

“There’s that smile,” Rick said, his eyes lingering a heartbeat too long on Daryl’s hazy blue ones. “Looks good on you. We’re gonna get you wearing it more often.” 

Daryl liked the sound of Rick’s voice as he worked the other arm, then went to each leg and picked them up one at a time, bending the knee and pressing it to Daryl’s body. The movements felt good. Felt like being let out of a locked room to breathe fresh air.

Rick ran a hand along Daryl’s bicep. “These strong arms will come in handy when we have you learning to walk again. This’ll be easy. I’ll have you back on your feet in no time.” 

Walking behind the bed, the physical therapist pressed his thumbs into Daryl’s stiff neck.

“You have that determined look about you,” he said thoughtfully. “You know you’re my favorite patient, right? Don’t tell the others,” Rick added in a whisper. “I like the strong silent type. It keeps the mystery going.”

Rick worked with Daryl’s neck until he was able to turn it in each direction on command. And Daryl didn’t care if it was a ridiculously menial accomplishment, he was proud. It was hard not to be with the therapist jumping around like Rocky just won the big fight. Rick made him want to become whole again, made him want to fight to regain all he lost just to make the man proud.

\----------------

The next day Daryl woke to memories that, although still few, came quicker. He remembered he was in the hospital, that he had a brother named Merle. He remembered Dr. Greene and Carol and Rick. He remembered having conversations with all of them, but couldn’t clearly remember what they were about. He was growing frustrated with this feeling, being trapped in an unmovable body with the memory of an infant who hadn’t developed anything to remember yet. He had to be fed by nurses or Rick. He hadn’t gone to the bathroom since he woke so he must be wearing a catheter. He had to get sponge baths. He wanted to do all those things himself again and weeks or months sounded like forever. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten through all the letter sounds yet, although he did manage to say “water”.

Rick walked in whistling _Take me out to the Ballgame_. “So I hear someone is making progress!” he said with that wide, honest smile of his.

 _Progress?? PROGRESS?_ , Daryl thought. How is saying aahhhh and water progress? He couldn’t move, he couldn’t communicate, he couldn’t even take a piss. He was growing incredibly impatient and he knew it showed. He looked away from Rick, not wanting to appear so defeated.

“Hey there, buddy,” Rick said gently. “This is slow going, man. You had a major injury. It’s going to take time and I know it’s frustrating, but I can tell you are eager to move faster. So I got a surprise for you today.”

Daryl looked over to Rick, happy that he at least had the faculties to turn his head now. The therapist disappeared around the hallway and reappeared with a wheelchair. “How about we forget about this lukewarm oatmeal and get us some real breakfast, huh?”

Daryl nodded, his eyes still showing an overall sadness at his lack of independence. 

“I’m gonna get you whatever you want, buddy. French toast, western omelette, bacon, sausage -- whatever your little heart desires.”

Rick put an arm around Daryl and very diligently moved him with a nurse’s help to the wheelchair. 

“You need anything else, Rick,” the nurse asked. 

“Nope. Just taking my boy for breakfast, Jacqui, but thanks.”

“Bring him back in one piece,” she chided.

“I’ll bring him back even better than I found him,” Rick promised.

They headed down the hallway and Daryl watched the doctors and nurses pass by; some he recognized from his past few weeks of finally being conscious. Daryl found out through Rick’s idle chatter that he’d been out for three months before he finally opened his eyes. Three damn months of his life, just simply gone.

Joking and chatting with all the staff and patients as they made their way to the cafeteria seating, Rick pushed Daryl’s wheelchair up to a table and sat next to him. 

“So what do you say? Anything is on the menu. Can you talk to me, bud? I know Carol’s got you saying a couple words. You want anything to drink? All you have to do is use that voice and ask.”

Rick waited Daryl out for a few long moments. He looked so expectant and eager that Daryl was again overwhelmed with the desire to make him proud. There was something about that feeling -- of making someone who seemed to care proud -- that motivated Daryl.

“Wwww,” Daryl started slowly, his voice low and husky, shy.

“That’s it, Daryl. You got this. Water,” Rick said. For a moment Daryl wondered why Rick was so invested in his voice. This wasn’t his job, he was just the physical therapist. Carol was speech, but Rick just seemed to care about the whole package, the whole patient.

“Wwwater,” Daryl stuttered.

“Water! That’s great!!” He jumped up and brought a cup with a straw right back over. “How about for food, buddy? What sounds good?”

Daryl knew the words. He could feel them in his mouth. Wrinkling his brow in concentration he sounded out what he wanted to say. 

“Fllllosted Frrakes.”

A smile split Rick’s face in two. “Frosted Flakes? Well, Daryl. That’s my favorite, too.”

Once Rick got a bowl of cereal with milk, he sat across from Daryl. “One spoonful from me and then you do one yourself. Sound fair?”

Daryl nodded his head. He was pretty sure it was nodding properly now instead of swirling in circles.

Rick lifted up a spoon and fed it to Daryl. “Okay. Your turn buddy. You can do this. Remember squeezing my hand as I massaged it yesterday? Use your strength.”

Daryl looked at the bowl and spoon and his hand lying on the table. He willed it to move and his fingers found their way around the utensil. He dipped it into the cereal only managing to scoop up one flake, and he slowly and shakily lifted it to his mouth. Before he could part his lips, the spoon fell with a clang.

He was so angry he could feel it boil in his veins. He couldn’t do anything. He was nothing. Worthless! The words all sounded familiar to him somehow. He lifted his arm again and swung at the bowl, sending it off the table and crashing to the floor, rendering the busy cafeteria silent.

Rick got up calmly and collected the bowl, waving off one of the cafeteria workers so that he could clean the mess up himself. Sitting back down at the table with Daryl, Rick ducked his head to force eye contact. “That was my fault, Daryl. I pushed too hard and you weren’t ready yet.” 

Daryl gritted his teeth, not wanting to take his anger out on one of the only people that seemed to genuinely like him. 

“The good news…you got a hell of a right hook. That plastic bowl never saw it coming.”

Daryl unsuccessfully fought a smile. “Let’s take these Frosted Flakes to go. I’ll feed you in your room and then we’ll talk a little, okay? Well, Let’s face it…I’ll talk. But you love to listen to me, right?”

“Yyyyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update- Thursday.


	3. Take it as it Comes

Daryl awoke to the sounds of the hospital: squeaky gurneys, doctors being paged, nurses talking, the sound of heels clicking past his room. The windows were grey from overcast skies and sprinkling rain. He was enduring yet another awkward, uncomfortable sponge bath from a young nurse that still blushed when she got too close to his groin. Of all the things he longed for, being able to bathe alone was high on his list. 

He imagined that one day he’d have more lofty goals, but for now having control of his arms was of the utmost importance. He daydreamed about spooning soup into his mouth, of scratching an itchy ear, of being able to wash his own damn balls.

“Mr. Dixon, we’re all done. Looks like Carol will be in soon for speech therapy. Can I get you anything before I leave?”

 _Yeah. You can get me a nurse that understands I don’t speak_ , Daryl thought. He looked at her dumbly until she figured he wasn’t going to have any requests and left. 

Speech therapy hadn’t been going well. He could make most of the sounds, but couldn’t seem to get his voice box to catch long enough to form sentences. Carol was nice enough - very nice in fact - but working with her was frustrating and their sessions often left Daryl cranky and angry.

He’d found himself angry more often than not. Angry at every little thing from not being able to scratch an itch to not knowing a damn thing about his life. He was angry when the nurses talked about him like he wasn’t there. He was angry when they woke him ten times a night to take his vitals. He was angry when he bolted awake from nightmares that stole his sleep. He was angry when his head hurt, when his mouth was dry, and when he had to sneeze and couldn’t reach a tissue.

The only time he wasn’t angry was when Rick was there, massaging his numb limbs and making him smile with his constant chatter. At least he had this one part of his day to look forward to.

“Hey there, Pookie,” Carol said as she entered the room with her hands full of flash cards. Just the sight of them already made Daryl tense. 

“I know you’ve been getting more and more frustrated so we’re going to slow it down a bit today. Just a few cards and they are all one syllable words. This is going to help make sure your brain is seeing the image and translating the sounds correctly to your mouth. It’s important that you look at all of this as practice. This isn’t a test, Daryl,” she soothed. 

Daryl nodded. He’d at least gotten better control of his neck from Rick’s therapy.

Carol held up a picture of a cat. A damn cat. It was like he was in elementary school. He wished he could shout out that he’s not a total moron trapped inside his body. He just can’t remember…anything.

“Cccca.”

“Good job, Daryl. That’s good. How about this one?”

“Mmmmm,” Daryl attempted. She looked at the card and pointed as if Daryl had no idea what it was. 

“Mouse,” she said deliberately. “Can you get the first part? Say Moooww”

“Mmmmmmmmmmm,” Daryl said and he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Let’s switch to the next,” she said as she held the new card - this one boasting a picture of a bird - up in front of him.

“Brrrrr.” Daryl started. Before she could encourage him to try again, he did. “Brrrrrddd”

“That’s fantastic, Daryl!” she said with a clap. “See, that’s progress. This takes baby steps.”

Daryl baby-stepped for another hour and a half before Rick finally came in to rescue him. As usual, his presence settled Daryl instantly. He could feel his body already melting at the thought of Rick’s strong hands on him. It wouldn’t last forever, Daryl knew this. Rick had explained that things would get more difficult before they got better so he was prepared. The older man had even taken him on a tour of the physical therapy room so he’d know what was ahead of him, but for now, sessions were still just moving his arms, his legs, and his neck.

Rick was leaning against the door, tossing a stress ball up in the air. “And you’re outta there!” Rick said in his best impression of a baseball umpire.

“You do have an enthusiastic way of ending my shift, Rick,” Carol said with a smile. Then she turned to Daryl. “Let’s show off your progress,” she said. 

Daryl went from calm to tense in an instant. These things that Carol thought were accomplishments mostly felt like embarrassments to Daryl. 

She held up the mouse card. Had to be the fucking mouse...the hardest damn one.

“Go ahead, Daryl. You can do it.”

Daryl looked over to Rick and rolled his eyes which earned him a chuckle in camaraderie. 

“Mmmmmmssss.”

Rick nodded and smiled. “I know buddy. You think it’s goddamn lame, don’t you? Well, two weeks ago you couldn’t even breathe on your own, so be prouder of yourself than I can tell you are.”

Carol packed up and left as Rick watched, still bouncing his ball. “It’s game time, Daryl.” He announced once Carol was gone. Rick climbed up on the opposite end of the bed and handed Daryl the stress ball. “Massages after some work today, buddy. That will give us something to look forward to.”

“Now use your strength in that hand and give the ball a quick squeeze.” 

Daryl obeyed, almost surprising himself at the strength of his grip.

“Good job. Now this time squeeze it like you mean it. You’re frustrated, especially after speech therapy. Now give it a go. Show that ball who’s boss.

Daryl did and he squeezed it so hard it popped out of his grip. “Now THAT’s a squeeze, my friend. Rick went to retrieve the ball and put it in the opposite hand. 

“From what we can tell you’re right-handed, so this one might be more challenging, but go ahead and give me a squeeze.

Daryl obeyed, stupidly proud. 

“I told you before, Daryl. You’re strong. You’re everything you need to be to beat this place.”

Daryl smiled. He loved Rick’s confidence.

“Hey, I got an idea..but don’t tell Carol. Let’s try chatting, huh? You gotta be sick of my stories by now, which reminds me before we start this new game, did I mention I got another roommate? Swears he’s not a homophobe, but the rent’s cheap so he may just be faking it. You’re not a homophobe are you? Squeeze once if you are.”

Daryl didn’t squeeze. He didn’t know much about himself, but Rick being gay didn’t gross him out; if anything it made him curious.”

“Okay, so either you’re not…or you ran out of energy to squeeze. Let’s try some baseline questions. Squeeze if my name is Rick.

Daryl squeezed.

“Good, Daryl. Good job.”

“Squeeze if you like being stuck in this hospital.” No squeeze.

“Now we’re cooking.”

“You ever been to a baseball game, Daryl?”

No squeeze.

“You want to one day?”

Daryl cocked his head in confusion. 

“Well, I got an extra ticket. You’re good at getting around in a wheelchair now. Thought you could join me. Could you bear me for another few hours next weekend if I promise a ballfield hotdog and a beer with the deal?

Daryl squeezed. “Ddddogg” he smiled.

“Good job, Daryl,” Rick praised. “Let’s chat some more. This time squeeze with the right hand for yes. And squeeze in the left hand for no. Do you think you can do that?”

Daryl moved his hand carefully to put the ball back in his right hand and squeezed.

“I knew you could,” Rick smiled.

“So I understand you have a brother named Merle. That right?”

Daryl squeezed.

“Do you remember him? At all?”

The younger man moved his arm awkwardly so he could grab the ball with his left hand and he squeezed.

“Yeah. There’s high hopes you’ll start remembering again, though. He was here earlier while you were sleeping and I got to talk to him a while.”

Daryl swallowed and parted his lips in an attempt to talk. “Sss he reeeeelly mmmmmm brether?”

Rick nodded. “He is. And by the conversation he had with me he is very protective of you. Wants what’s best. I think he has a good heart.”

Daryl handed Rick the ball as he tried again to speak. “DYyyouu haaalf brether?”

Rick smiled so wide Daryl could see every tooth. “Well, no actually. Thanks for asking, though. I’m an only child. I’m always jealous when I see that sibling bond.”

Daryl felt good. He felt strong and capable and although he could hear the child-like sounds of his voice, he was still using it. And his arms were getting more coordinated. It was all thanks to this man, Rick. His hero.

“I think you’ve made some great strides today, Daryl. Let’s get to the good part-- the massage. I’m the best, aren’t I?

Daryl put his hand on Rick’s forearm and squeezed for yes. 

“You’re too goddamn cute for words, kid...but don’t tell your brother I told you that.”


	4. Not to Touch the Earth

Physical therapy was becoming the most grueling part of Daryl’s day. But it was also the bright spot because he felt like Rick understood him better than anyone else. He didn’t judge, he didn’t push any more than he had to. He always seemed genuinely happy to see Daryl and was proud of his accomplishments. Rick was all about talking, but also listening. He was all about encouragement and kindness. His enthusiasm and optimism were contagious, and after a session Daryl always felt more hopeful about getting his regular life back.

The family visit was harder mentally. Merle knew who Daryl used to be and what he used to like. He knew things about Daryl that _Daryl_ didn’t know. The younger brother might be a bit naive, but even he could tell Merle seemed to be holding something back. Keeping secrets that rightfully belonged to him. 

Merle came to visit nearly every day. He’d bring cigarettes Daryl didn’t smoke, Italian subs he didn’t like, and conversation he could barely participate in. Maybe he wasn’t going to be the same exact person he was? Maybe all this was like a do-over? Hell of a way to quit smoking.

Merle mostly talked about how close they were, what they used to do together and how much he missed sitting out on the deck drinking a beer with his baby brother. Daryl could at least picture that. Sitting somewhere outside and leisurely talking to this man. It seemed possible. But as friendly and doting as his big brother appeared, there always seemed to be something hidden behind those eyes. Something he could never seem to tease out of him with questions. And it made Daryl nervous.

The doctors and nurses were all very kind but clinical and Carol seemed genuine and invested, but Rick? He was almost a friend despite Daryl’s infrequent words and shy personality.

It wasn’t going to be a typical day. It was the last day of speech therapy and the next day he and Rick were going to the ballgame. He hated that it would have to be in a wheelchair, but it was an afternoon in the sun, a ballfield hot dog, a beer and...some extra time with Rick.

“Well, I’m stealing him,” Daryl heard Rick say from the hall.

“You can’t, Rick. It’s his speech therapy finale.”

“He can already talk. I want to get him in the pool for the first time before it gets too crowded today.”

“My job isn’t done yet, Rick.”

“Let’s ask him then, Carol” Rick responded. 

They both walked into the room at the same time.

“Daryl,” Rick started, “Would you rather sound out the alphabet with Carol one last time or go swimming with me?

All three knew the answer, but Dary responded anyway. “I’m already reallly good at wwords, Carol. You did a good jjjob for me. Can I go ssswim? I promise t-t-to practice lots of words with Rrrick.”

Carol rolled her eyes at the young man. “You think you can get a word in edgewise with him?” she sassed with a smile.

“He listens good,” Daryl defended.

\----------

Daryl looked at the pool from his wheelchair, shaking his head in a determined ‘no fucking way’ gesture.

“We’re ggoing to the ggame tomorrow. Ddon’t let me ddrown today,” Daryl said with more playfulness to his voice than there usually was.

“Don’t you trust me?” Rick pouted.

“Sure. I don’t trust me,” Daryl answered nearly perfectly.

The noise in the room echoed with splashes from the few other patients and therapists. No one else seemed to be drowning.

“Let’s just sit on the edge and kick our feet a bit. I’ll take you to the back room first for a quick massage then we’ll suit up and just take it one small step at a time. Only what you’re comfortable with.” 

Daryl nodded. “Well. I gguess you sseem like you know wwhat you’re doing so far,” he said teasingly.

Rick smiled at the snark longer than was necessary. “Believe it or not, sometimes I have no idea what I’m doing,” he said quietly, almost low enough that Daryl may not have heard it over the noise in the pool.

“To the massage table!” Rick said louder and with embellished animation. Once there, he helped Daryl up onto the table, face down, and he started massaging his limbs, his back, his neck.

Hell, Daryl was going to miss this part of therapy for sure. His original hesitation to touch still occasionally reared its ugly head, but for the most part Rick made Daryl’s body feel like pure golden sunshine. His hands were soft, firm, and warm and he was so damn strong and deft with those fingers. With his sensations finally coming back, Daryl noticed that his trapped cock was swelling as Rick’s nimble finger tips dug into his lower back. And that was something new! It made him curious about himself. Had he ever had sex? If so, with whom? And why was Rick making him feel this way?

“We’re going to get you all loosened up, kiddo,” Rick murmured almost seductively. 

_seductively?_ Daryl wondered where he’d even come up with that word? He wiggled uncomfortably on the table, trying to think down his erection. It was the first one he’d had since he woke from the coma...hell, the first one he could remember _ever_.

“I’m nnot a kid,” Daryl said, feeling like he wanted that firmly stated.

“Seventeen is still plenty kid, buddy,” Rick chuckled.

“Merle says I turned eighteen since I been in here.”

“Oh, okay. A man then,” Rick said with a smile

“I am,” Daryl insisted. _And you’re straight,_ Daryl heard Merle’s words echo in his ears. _Don’t think too much on that one._

“How old are you” Daryl asked, trying to procrastinate the turning over until he could think about Old Doc Greene naked in order to deflate his cock.

‘Twenty-eight despite these early greys. Hereditary curse.”

“I like them,” Daryl smiled.

Shit what was he doing? Was he starting to subconsciously flirt while trying to unerect himself?! Was this really the first time he gave thought to the fact that Rick was gay and single and Merle may have been full of absolute bullshit about more than one thing in his life?

“Let’s roll over so I can work the thighs, then we’ll get into our suits and hit poolside,” Rick said as he began to help Daryl turn.

“NO!” Daryl shouted, loud enough for the splashing in the pool to stop for a moment in curiosity. “I ahhh..Ummm just ssso relaxed. Can I lie like this a few more minutes?”

Rick was quiet, head cocked to the side as if he were reading right through Daryl. 

“Sure, let’s give you a few minutes, sweetheart,” Rick said.

The sweetheart did NOT help. But the old lady who had just entered the therapy room farting non-stop certainly did. 

It was only a moment before Daryl was successfully deflated and he tried to turn himself back over to sit up. He bit his lip til it bled to keep his cock down while Rick helped him change into swim trunks and before he knew it Rick was in a pair of this own, his strong chest covered with hair that Daryl was suddenly desperate to run his fingers through. 

This was wrong. This was allll wrong. Rick was ten years older than he was. He was Daryl’s _therapist_. Daryl wasn’t even supposed to be gay. So how come he wanted to lick a line from one pert nipple to the other? Wanted to follow that happy trail to its treasure so he could feel Rick heavy on his tongue? 

“I th-th-think Merle lies to me,” he finally said as he sat there on the edge of the table, Rick pressing the palms of his hands into Daryl’s thighs.

Rick stopped immediately and leaned against the table with sympathy in his apologetic expression.

“You know? You know things I don’t know?” Daryl asked, no longer just considering his sexual orientation.

Rick sighed. “It’s complicated I guess, Daryl. He wants to take away all the bad things you’ve been through and he feels like he can keep you from remembering what he doesn’t want you remembering.

“I’m gay,” Daryl said.

“I know.”

“How can you tell?” Daryl all but whined.

“Gaydar. Top-notch. Never lets me down.”

“I think he’s lying about my parents. I don’t think they’re dead. Maybe they gave me up for adoption or something?”

Rick shook his head, getting the wheelchair ready for Daryl to slide back down into it. “Maybe you should have this conversation with Merle?” Rick wondered out loud. 

“He ain’t gonna tell me the truth,” Daryl pouted. “If there’s one thing I’ve lllearned about him it’s that he’s one determined son-of-a-bitch.”

Rick laughed at that as he pushed Daryl back towards the pool and helped him out of the chair so he could sit carefully on the edge with his legs in the water. Rick joined him. 

“One time I had this dream that I couldn’t remember my class schedule and it was the first day of school,” Rick started. “Mind you, this wasn’t during high school or college. It was like a few months ago. I woke up terrified that I couldn’t remember what to do or where to go.” He paused and looked at Daryl. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been going through with that.”

Daryl quietly kicked at the water, staring at the pool. “We’re ffriends, right? You said.”

“Yes. I like to think we are,” Rick answered.

“Can you help me? I mean, I know you are and I’m thankful for everything you’ve done to get me moving again, but can you help me try to remember things?”

“Yeah,” Rick answered softly and sincerely. “You know, I think your mind has too much else on it for today to be a pool day. Maybe we start Monday after the game, huh?”

Daryl continued kicking at the water, his eyes staring into the pool. “I don’t think I was happy. In life, y’know?”

“I think you had some rough times, Daryl. I’m not gonna lie.”

“What do you know that I don’t?” Daryl asked.

Rick lifted Daryl back into the wheelchair wordlessly. He wheeled the younger man back into the training room and parked the wheelchair so it was catercorner to the wall of mirrors. And he pointed to it.

Daryl looked at himself a moment, confused. Then he noticed a thick, ropey scar curl around his shoulder. He moved forward and leaned so he could see more of his back and he gasped. “What...what is this?” he asked, eyes nearly filled with tears. “Are these from the fight that put me in a coma?”

“No, sweetheart. You came in with those already. I’d guess Merle might know more about it. Now you have something you can ask him about directly.”

“I was right. I wasn’t happy, was I?”

“That was before,” Rick said trying to soften the blow. “You’ve got a second chance at life here. And no matter what you went through before, you have to look ahead. We got a ballgame tomorrow and by God if I’ll let you feel sad and broken during one of America’s favorite pastimes.”

Daryl smiled shyly. 

“But after the game, Daryl? I’ll take you to dinner, we’ll invite Merle together, and we’ll see what we can find out. Okay?”

Daryl bit his lip. “I ain’t gonna lie like Merle so it’s best you know I might have a crush on you,” Daryl said in a surprisingly open admission.

“Best you know I have one right back,” Rick responded with a wink. Daryl’s heart fluttered at the possibility.

“Let’s get you back to your room. I’m pretty sure this conversation will have you worn out. Need you to get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow.”

When Rick dropped Daryl back off at his room he mentioned that hand weights were going to be the special the following week and after that it would be a week of trying to get him on his feet. 

“It’s coming along, Daryl. You’re getting everything back,” Rick said proudly as he tucked the man in. “Only a matter of time till the rest comes.”


	5. You Make Me Real

The stadium was huge and crowded and Daryl felt so damn helpless in his wheelchair. But Rick never left his side. They got beers and hotdogs and hats to keep the sun out of their eyes and Daryl hadn’t felt so normal since...ever. They cheered the homers and cringed at the outs and Daryl discovered that he did, indeed, like baseball. 

“I think I remember something,” Daryl said at the bottom of the eighth.

“Oh yeah?” Rick asked excitedly. “What?”

“I remember being in a room with baseball on the television. I remember wanting to watch it but being scared of something. And I remember beer cans all over the floor. You think that was my house?”

Rick listened carefully, his head tilted to the side like it always was when he was really paying attention. “Maybe. That’s great. That’s a great sign that things might start coming back.”

Daryl snorted and took another guzzle of beer. “Merle won’t like that, I guess.”

“I think Merle just wanted to try to make your life better. He agreed to dinner tonight, right?”

“Yeah, He’ll meet us at La Bella Italia. He better be ready to level with me. I’m sick of being babied.”

“I’m guilty of babying you too, but not much longer!. Next week is a big week. Focusing on building up those arm muscles so you can lift yourself to try walking.” 

Daryl looked at his arms in his sleeveless tee and he flexed one bicep with a grin. “Already pretty strong.” he smirked. A little harmless flirting wasn’t above him.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Rick flirted back.

They were interrupted by the excitement of a base hit and the rest of the game was a nail bitter as the score went from 3-3 to a final 5-3 win by the Braves.

Once they were back in the car, both all smiles from a fun day, Daryl thanked Rick for the game.

“This was nice, Rick. Thanks. Almost like a date,” he winked.

Rick blushed deep red. “Well, I shouldn’t be taking advantage of my patients by dating them. But a real date? You’ll be out of therapy before you know it.” He gave Daryl a quick squeeze on the knee as he pulled out of the stadium parking lot. 

“Ya know, Rick,” Daryl said with a wistful sigh, “You make me feel real.”

\------------------------------------------

“Lookit yah gettin’ around, baby brother!” Merle exclaimed as he walked up to the men at the restaurant. “Out and about and with some slick wheels there. Is that a Braves sticker on the back?”

“Yeah, we went to the game today,” Daryl smiled.

“Who? You and therapist friendly over here?”

“It was a field trip for therapy. He got some arm strength work by wheeling that chair around,” Rick said, being fully aware that the gay confessions were something better left unsaid.

“Huh,” was Merle’s eloquent response.

After they ordered, Daryl didn’t waste any time with the third degree. He leaned across the table, hands folded and made sure he was speaking strong and clearly over the restaurant noise. 

“Merle. I have questions.”

“Shoot, bro.”

“My back. It’s covered with scars. Not from the accident, I already checked. How did I get those?”

Merle sighed and sat back in his chair, his lips tight and his arms folded. He looked disappointed and frustrated, like he wanted to get up and leave. He stayed seated though and sighed again. “Guess it was too much to ask for you to forget it all. I even fucking prayed. Last damn time I fall for that shit. Jesus is a joke, man.”

“I appreciate you looking out for me. But I need to know who I am, who I was, where I came from.”

Merle looked at Rick then back at Daryl. “Maybe I’ll come in to visit tomorrow and bring you up to speed in private.”

“You can talk in front of him,” Daryl urged. “He’s a friend.”

“Thought he was just a damn therapist. When did this happen?”

“It’s not a big deal, Merle,” Rick said. “I become friends with a lot of my patients.” Rick looked over to Daryl and winked shaking his head “No.” 

“Well, not that it’s any of Therapist Friendly’s business, but...our Pa ain’t a good man.

“Pa,” Daryl said trying the word on his tongue. “How not good?”

“All those scars not good,” Merle answered. “He...he uhhh...he was the one put you in here. Not the geeks down the road. I didn’t get home til you were already unconscious on the floor. And...and...Sorry I couldn’t have been there sooner, brother.”

“My own dad did this to me?” Daryl asked, shocked. “He hasn’t even come to visit.”

“He won’t. He’s in the big house for attempted murder. We’re both free of him now.”

“Oh.”

Rick squeezed Daryl’s knee under the table. 

“What about our mother?”

“Dead. Wasn’t lying about that. You were about five. Probably wouldn’t remember that even if you didn’t get beat half to death. Was a long time ago.” 

“How?”

“House burned down. Cigarette. Funny thing was she didn’t smoke, the old man did and he was nowhere near the building when it went up.”

Daryl wrapped his head around what that meant and felt unspeakably grateful for having survived his beating. 

“Maybe you can remind him about some good times?” Rick suggested.

Merle looked between the men. “Well...you’s a great archer. Love hunting. You’re straight. Bit of a ladies man, actually,” Merle said as he glared at Rick.

“Merle,” Daryl said, stopping him in mid-thought. “I’m gay. You obviously know that and it’s not the kind of thing you just forget.”

Merle dropped his piece of garlic bread on his plate. “I just wanted you to have an easier life. Does that make me the bad guy here?”

“No,” Rick and Daryl exclaimed at the same time. “He gets it,” Rick added. “We both do.”

Merle took a bite of bread and leaned forward over the table. “Are you two fucking?” he asked with his mouth full.

“No!” both men exclaimed again in unison. “Maybe a date,” Daryl said.

“Barely a date,” Rick added.

“More like just being in the same place at the same time,“ Daryl continued.

Merle rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. All my careful stories are shot to shit. You had a shitty childhood, your parents were monsters, you got beat all your life. Thought this would make it easier for both of us.”

“I wanted my truth, Merle. No matter how bad, it’s mine.”


	6. Surrender to the Waiting Worlds

”Okay. Three more sets,” Rick instructed.

“Three more because I have to or because you just want to watch?” Daryl asked flirtatiously as he started in on another set of arm lifts with the 20 pound weights.

“If it was just to watch I’d have come up with some more creative moves,” Rick said softly with a mischievous grin.

“Perve.”

“Show off.”

As Daryl finished his set he looked up at Rick for his next instruction.

“Sooner we get you out of here, the sooner I can ethically date you. I say you’re ready to hit the bars. Lift yourself up and you’re gonna put one foot in front of the other. What do you say? You up for it?”

Daryl grinned at Rick’s messy curls and eager dark blue eyes. “I’m ready. Let’s give it a shot!”

Rick wheeled him to the parallel bars and helped Daryl rise up to grasp them with both hands. 

“It won’t be easy now. Patience is the most important part here, okay?”

Daryl nodded, suddenly nervous about whether he’d really ever be able to walk again. He knew his legs were weak and his feet still didn’t quite do what he told them to do.

“Just drag your right foot forward,” Rick said in that soothing therapist’s voice. God, what must that voice be like in the bedroom? 

As soon as the thought crossed his mind he lost his concentration and collapsed to the ground.

“Fuck!” he shouted in frustration as he crawled back to his wheelchair and got back in it with Rick’s help.

“It’s okay. First step’s a doozy,” Rick said, waiting for a laugh that never came. “Alright, let’s try it again.”

“What? It didn’t work. I can’t do it,” Daryl protested. 

“Practice, practice, practice,” Rick insisted, encouraging Daryl to get back up. The younger man made several more valiant attempts but got no further than a step or two. The session ended with a grouchy and frustrated Daryl.

Two days later Daryl was halfway down the bars and ready to make his first trip all the way to the end. Rick stood there at the end cheering him on. “You got this, Daryl. Look at you! Two days and already making it to the end of the bars.”

“Ain’t there yet,” Daryl grunted as he moved one arm up and dragged a leg forward. He took his last few steps in silence and when he reached Rick at the end, the therapist was all smiles. He leaned in and for the first time, pressed a quick brush of lips against Daryl’s. 

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Daryl was in a daze. God how much he adored this man, how much more he wanted, how much…”

“Now turn around and let’s walk back,” Rick said.

“Can’t we celebrate a little longer?” Daryl whined.

“We’ll celebrate at the other end.”

The day was exhausting. Learning to walk again was going to take a hell of a lot longer than he anticipated and he was already growing frustrated about it. Nothing came fast anymore. Not talking, not walking, not taking a damn shower now that he was finally allowed to. Everything was slow progress and cautious movements.

That next morning he woke to Rick’s smiling face standing by his hospital bed.. “Got good news and bad news.”

“I’ll take the good.”

“You’re being discharged today! You can go home!”

Daryl felt his stomach sink. He didn’t know home. Hell, the hospital was all the home he really knew and what about Rick?

“And the bad news is I’m still you’re therapist so I can’t do the things to you that I really want to,” Rick whispered.

“Bbbut...I’m not ready to go home.”

“You are. You can get around fine in your wheelchair and I’ll even pick you up for your therapy appointments. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds like shit, Rick! I don’t know my home! I don’t have one. I have here and I have you.”

“You know Merle and that’s where you live. You’ll have him to…”

“I don’t want that! I want to walk on my own and know who I am and be where I’m comfortable!” Daryl argued.

“Daryl, sweetheart. I’ll be coming to visit you all the time, not just for therapy, but for watching a game on tv, for playing cards, for hanging out. And as soon as we get you up and walking and my job is done...oh Daryl, I promise I’ll show you what home really is.”

Daryl shivered at the promise, but the pout didn’t leave his lips. “I’m not leaving.”

“You have to. The hospital can’t…”

“I’ll get a hotel room."

“Daryl!” Rick said sharply. “This is ridiculous! What are you scared of?”

Daryl looked down at the floor and bit aggressively at his bottom lip in an attempt to stave off tears. “Memories.” 

“Daryl,” Rick said softly.

“I don’t like the feeling I get when Merle talks about my old life. I don’t really like what I hear. I wasn’t a happy person, Rick. I can feel it in my gut. But you make me one and I don’t want to lose that.”

Rick walked over to the hospital room door and closed it. He returned to Daryl’s bedside, took the other man’s face in his hands, and kissed him, a long, lingering kiss that made promises and spoke volumes. 

Daryl let Rick lead in the tangle of tongues, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly, twisting them slightly as he tried to to support himself as if he were falling. Rick’s lips were soft and tender; he smelled like clean sheets and cologne. If life itself had a flavor, Rick is what it would taste like.

Once Rick reluctantly pulled away, Daryl just looked up at him, eyes flooded with want and mouth still hanging open.

“Daryl,” Rick said, hands still holding the other man’s face. “I’m with you, okay? I won’t let you get lost in the past. I promise.”

“Okay.”

\-----------

Daryl rolled himself up an unfamiliar walkway to a house he didn’t recognize with Rick right behind him. The door flew open and there was Merle, all smiles and gruff “Welcome Home”.

Daryl winced at the word home. The house was more of a permanent trailer and he could smell the cigarette smoke and mustiness before he even rolled in the door.

“Had that ramp put in for ya, kid. Built it myself,” Merle said proudly.

“Thanks,” Daryl said as he looked around the dingy living room.

“Anything coming back?” Rick asked cautiously.

“No. I don’t know this place.”

“Sure you do. Now that Pa’s in the joint it’s all ours. I gave you the biggest bedroom so you could move around with them wheels.”

Daryl rolled into the room Merle led him to. It had 70’s paneling on the wall, a poster of a motorcycle, a scratchy looking blanket over the bed, and dirty grey carpet that looked like it was once supposed to be blue. It was as unfamiliar as the rest of the house.

“Well, I should leave and let you get settled,” Rick announced.

Daryl grabbed the hand that was resting on the back of the wheelchair. “No!” he shouted. 

Merle looked disappointed. “Ain’t gonna bite ya, kid. I know you don’t remember me...but I bet you’ll remember soon. Either that or you’ll get to know me from scratch and you’ll find out I’m a hell of a kick-ass older brother. I got your back, kid. You don’t gotta be afraid of nothin.”

Daryl’s eyes watered. He didn’t want Rick to leave. Not yet. It was too soon. He still had a grip on the other man’s hand.

Rolling his eyes, Merle finally conceded. “Therapist Friendly can stay for dinner. I was gonna have some pizza delivered.”

Daryl sniffed away his tears and nodded. “Can you?” he asked Rick.

“Sure, buddy. I’m here. I’ll even spring for the pizza.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Daryl said at the same time Merle said. “Sweet, thanks.”

They ate in relative silence at the kitchen table as Daryl picked off the mushrooms with a fork.

“You used to love mushrooms,” Merle said with his mouth full.

“They’re mushy,” Daryl answered.

“Is that normal for the things he likes to change?” Merle asked Rick.

Rick shrugged. “I’m just a physical therapist, but I’ve definitely seen it before with other patients.”

“Maybe the part of my brain that got damaged was the part that liked mushrooms,” Daryl said with a grin. He looked around the kitchen again and had a sudden flash back at the olive-green refrigerator. In his memory he saw it open and empty, heard a loud TV show on, and a slamming door. He jumped at the imagined slam.

When he flashed back to reality Merle was looking at him and Rick was standing by his side.

“What’s the matter? You zoned out a bit there, got so pale,” Rick said.

“‘M’fine,” Daryl muttered. “I just remember the fridge, that’s all.”

“That’s great!” Merle shouted. “Soon you’ll remember me. But fridge first. Whatever. I ain’t jealous.”

Daryl glared at the refrigerator. The memory made him feel empty and helpless, like he was lost in a deep forest and the sky was dark grey and ready to unleash a fierce storm. Most of him wanted to give the memory back, and part of him was curious about the rain that was about to come.


	7. First Flash of Eden

Though Daryl was finally able to get across the bars without help, putting most of his weight on his feet, he was still getting frustrated with how slow time was passing. Every day dragged, every session was difficult, every night was awkward silence with Merle while they watched TV shows Daryl didn’t remember.

Seeing Rick on therapy days helped. It was the bright point of his day, but the level of flirting had gone through the roof and all Daryl wanted was to be done with therapy and be able to use his legs well enough to wrap them around Rick. 

“Look at you!” Rick said proudly. “You have officially graduated to crutches! I say we go out to dinner tonight to celebrate.”

“Is therapy over?” Daryl asked eagerly. 

“I think I can sign off on you as long as you promise to do your exercises every day.”

“Scout’s honor,” Daryl answered. He accepted the crutches Rick handed him and took a few practice steps. “Does this mean dinner will be an actual date?” Daryl winked.

“Yes. And just so you know...I’m an easy lay,” Rick winked back. “Where do you want to go?”

“Your house,” Daryl answered.

“What about dinner?”

“Pizza delivery?”

“I’m in.”

\--------------

That night Rick picked Daryl up and brought him back to his place since he wasn’t cleared to drive yet.

“I’ll call for the pizza. Pepperoni, no mushrooms,” Rick said as they walked in.

Daryl had no patience for pizza. He’d been living off innocent, hidden kisses for months and for all he knew, he’d never been with anyone before. That’s what he was starved for - Rick. Not pizza. He rested his crutches against the dinner table and took the single step to reach Rick at the counter. They kissed without conversation, without guilt, without complication.

Rick’s hands slid under Daryl’s shirt, the feel of them hot on the younger man’s skin. He let his own hands roam up to Rick’s face, fingers sliding into the mess of curls that Daryl had been dreaming about touching for months now. The kiss gave Daryl butterflies, as if it were his first. The feel of Rick’s soft, plump lips against his own, the heat of them, the protection of being wrapped in his arms -- Daryl wasn’t nervous for more. He was...at home...with Rick. He felt like he was in the right place instead of just a person floating through a long, boring movie. He was Daryl no matter what he remembered and what he knew was that he had completely and utterly fallen in love with Rick Grimes.

“Couch?” Rick whispered between kisses. Daryl nodded, lips still locked with the other man’s. They walked together without breaking the kiss and fell down on the sofa, Rick on top of the younger man, and the feel of his whole body over Daryl’s gave him that dizzying, near-delirious feeling of just waking up from a long nap.

Daryl grabbed and squeezed at Rick’s tight ass as he kissed with more heat and more meaning. Rick was everything. Rick started grinding down against Daryl and the younger man could feel the thickness of his no-longer-therapist’s hard length against his own. The feeling was like a thousand little explosions of pure thrill.

Rick’s hands were now tangled in Daryl’s hair as they writhed together, forehead to forehead, gasping for breath. “This is so right,” Daryl gasped as the little explosions started to culminate into the big one. 

“I’m in love with you, Daryl Dixon,” Rick said, breathless.

The words were so _wanted_ , so real, the mere thought of them along with Rick’s consistent rutting made Daryl cry out as he came in his pants. Rick was only a moment behind him.

As they came down, Rick pressed little kisses to Daryl’s forehead. “Maybe next time we can lose the clothes,” he grinned.

“I can be ready again in ten,” Daryl said, much more serious than silly.

“I’m not young enough to recover that fast,” Rick laughed. “How about we get cleaned up and have that pizza. Then you can practice walking that fine ass of yours down the hall to my bedroom.”

“Yeah,” Daryl answered, still in the afterglow and at a loss for words.

“Do you...do you remember having done anything like that before,” Rick asked as he dialed the number on the menu that was on his fridge door.

“No. But I liked it. A lot. Did you...mean what you said?” Daryl asked as he bit on a nail.

Rick hung up the phone before the pizzeria could answer. He walked to Daryl and cupped his hands around Daryl’s face. “That I’m in love with you? Yes. I meant every word.”

“Why?”

Pulling up a chair Rick sat down in front of Daryl, giving him his full attention. “Because you’re sweet. Honest. Funny. Strong.”

Daryl blushed. “I ain’t none of those things.”

“Did I mention modest?” Rick added.

“I don’t think anyone liked me before.”

“What makes you say that?”

“No friends came to visit me. I don’t think I really had any.”

“Well, you’ve got more than a friend now,” Rick said gently as he plucked at Daryl’s pouty lips.

Daryl had more than butterflies, he had hummingbirds and ladybugs and anything else that fluttered or flew in his belly. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Rick’s.

“I love you, too, Rick.”

Daryl could sense the smile that spread across Rick’s face without even looking.

While they ate their pizza the TV remained off. The conversation flowed like water in a rockless creek; easy, familiar, comfortable. They talked about fears and wants and hopes and dreams. By the end of the night, Rick’s kitchen was more familiar to Daryl than his own. Other than the creepy, empty olive-colored refrigerator. 

“Have you had enough time to recuperate, old man?” Daryl asked with an eager grin.

Rick didn’t answer. He just got up, handed Daryl his crutches and pointed towards the bedroom. It was the fastest Daryl had been able to move yet on those things. Once the crutches were dropped to the floor, Rick guided Daryl down to the bed with hot, needy kisses, hands already pulling off Daryl’s shirt. Soon they were tangled, arms and legs, hands and feet all desperately trying to kick off clothes, and finally it was just one warm body against another.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

Daryl flipped Rick over with his strong arms and kissed him again, long and languid with no rush this time. “You be on top. You know what you’re doing.”

Rick flipped them back over and he knelt, hovering over Daryl’s vulnerable, naked body. He situated Daryl’s legs so that his feet were up against his ass and his knees were spread wide, giving complete access to anything Rick wanted to touch.

The older man reached for the nightstand drawer and produced a bottle of lube, slathering it onto his fingers. 

“You sure you want this, darlin’? I can wait if you aren’t ready.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Daryl groaned. 

Rick laughed. “I’m gonna open you up first so I can make you mine.”

Daryl groaned like he was already riding an orgasm. He clenched up when Rick started circling his hole. 

“Relax, sweetheart. It’s just me,” Rick soothed.

Daryl tried to relax, but the unfamiliar feeling of a finger slowly entering him caused his body to reflexively want to push it out. He wanted it in though, wanted Rick inside him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to open himself up. He gasped for breath with each slow, easy push and eventually Rick had gotten two fingers inside, scissoring him, pumping in and out and rubbing around in search of that bundle of nerves that would send Daryl out of his skin.

Daryl felt so exposed, so on display, so open, and it was all for Rick and that thought made his skin heat up with excitement. He began to press back into Rick’s fingers, desperate for more. 

“Rick, fuck me,” Daryl whined desperately.

Rick leaned down and nibbled at Daryl’s bottom lip as he pulled his fingers out. “You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Rick whispered. He settled himself between Daryl’s widespread legs and lined himself up with the younger man’s prepared hole. “Are you ready?”

“I been ready,” Daryl breathed.

As Rick started to breach Daryl’s entrance, both men gasped in pleasure. The more Rick pressed in, the more vulnerable Daryl felt, good vulnerable, surrendering himself to Rick vulnerable. Once Rick was finally fully seated, Daryl whimpered. His own cock was hard and throbbing, begging for attention, and he slid his hand between them and grabbed a hold of himself, squeezing tight. Rick slid back out and slowly pressed back in. “Oh God,” he murmured. “Your so tight and hot.”

The feel of Rick thrusting gently inside him was heaven. He wrapped his arms around the older man’s waist, clinging to him as if he was the embodiment to all the answers in the world. Suddenly Daryl felt a sharp shutter of electricity and his cock twitched in excitement. Rick focused on fucking him in just the right angle to keep that sensation going. The feeling of pure ecstasy engulfed Daryl and he arched his back, his eyes rolling back in his head. He tried to wiggle the right way to keep the sensation going. It was blinding, white-hot pulses of pleasure, like the fall of a roller coaster over and over.

“Fuck, don’t stop, Daryl gasped. He felt like a volcano, ready to erupt, right on the edge, on the cusp of explosion. Rick continued his thrusting, hitting his mark each time and Daryl suddenly realized he heard himself mewling out loud and trying to press himself back onto Rick’s thick cock. Suddenly he was rocked with the flare of eruption, the thrill of a falling roller coaster, the dizzying, desperate orgasm pulsing through his body, his cock and his ass both throbbing with thrill. He came so hard he nearly blacked out and suddenly it was just the two of them, one hot, heaving body over another, both completely sated and about to fall asleep right where they lay. 

Daryl could feel the final pulses of Rick’s cock inside him. “Fuck that was amazing,” Daryl gasped. Rick had no words, just soft butterfly-like kisses all over Daryl’s face, his eyes, his lips, his cheeks, his forehead.

When Rick finally pulled out and collapsed next to Daryl, he took the younger man in his arms like a spoon, curled up behind him and they both fell fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my friends. It's Sunday night and we are all about to watch the end of the amazing Rick Grimes. I'm crushed already but I will never stop shipping these two beautiful men. Long live Rickyl! (and Leedus!)


	8. Break on Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta’d by the lovely Lotr58!

The shrill ring of a phone woke Daryl. He was still wrapped tight in Rick’s arms, taking the position of the little spoon and it was still dark outside the windows.

“Rick? Your phone,” Daryl whispered.

The older man groaned and reached over for his phone, clicking a button which caused the phone to stop ringing. 

“How are you, sweetheart?” Rick whispered against Daryl’s ear. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“Hurt me?” Daryl laughed. “Uh, no. Hurt is not a word I’d use to describe it.”

Rick smiled into Daryl’s neck and the phone rang again. “I better just get it,” Rick said as he pulled away and sat up, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Hello?” he croaked into the phone.

Daryl could hear the caller, a loud, agitated Merle.

“Where’s my brother?” he yelled.

“Oh shit. He should have called. He’s here...we just…we fell asleep. How did you even get this num-”

“Found your card in his things. Now put him on.”

Rick handed Daryl the phone. In lieu of a greeting, Merle growled on the other end of the line “You fucked him, didn’t you?”

“No. No. I, umm...we had pizza and...”

“And you fucked him,” Merle interrupted.

Rick, who’d been watching Daryl, mouthed a “sorry”.

“Well, if you want to be technical,” Daryl said, “He fucked me.”

Merle shouted even louder. “Jesus Christ, boy! Ain’t you learned nothin? You’re best to keep that shit to yourself.”

“Why are you so angry? You hate me because of this? That why you tried to convince me I was straight?”

Merle’s voice quieted. “Well Jesus. No, kid. I just...I just don’t want to see anything bad happen to yah. Ever again.”

“I can’t help who I am, Merle.”

“I just don’t want you hurt again.”

“I’m a grown man now. I can take care of my...”

“You’re 18. You’re no grown-ass man!” Merle barked with a laugh. 

“Fine. Next time I stay over I’ll call.”

“ _Next time_. Jesus, kid, you’re killing me.”

Merle hung up before Daryl needed to worry about responding.

\--------

A week later, Rick and Daryl were taking an actual walk at a local park. Daryl was using a cane and moving slowly, but he was moving. 

“I love watching you walk, sweetheart,” Rick said, smiling from ear to ear. “Think of how frustrated you were in the hospital that first time you stood at the bars. Look how far you’ve come. My strong baby.”

Daryl rolled his eyes at the praise. 

“Told ya that you’d be you again. Just missing some memories. Soon you’ll be back at school, your senior year, and after that, well, the world is yours.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Go back to school.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to say. It’s embarrassing.”

Rick stopped them and guided Daryl to sit on a bench. 

“I’ve seen you naked as a jaybird in some pretty precarious positions, lover. I think we’re well past embarrassing. I want us to share everything without worrying about stuff like embarrassment.”

Daryl bit at a nail and looked up at Rick through his bangs. “I can’t read.”

Rick was quiet for a beat then cocked his head to the side. “Yes you can. You just read the menu last night at Nic & Norman’s.”

“I can’t. I just been ordering from the pictures since we been going out,” Daryl confessed.

Rick’s face contorted into sheer sympathy and deep love. “Sweetheart, that’s no problem. I’ll re-teach you.”

That very day back at Rick’s house, they sat on a couch with a worn out copy of _Goodnight, Moon_.

“You already know your letter sounds, so we’ll just take it slow and sound things out.”

“I feel like a moron,” Daryl complained.

“Darlin,” Rick said as he rested a hand on his lover’s cheek. “You had major brain surgery. It’s a miracle you learned to talk and walk again. It makes total sense that you forgot how to read.”

“Whatever. I don’t see how I can go back for senior year in a few weeks if I can only read baby books,” he said as he motioned to the book.

“It’s just a stepping stone, sweetheart.” Rick opened to page one and pointed to the words. “I’ll read it first and then you can,” he started. “In the great green room, there was a telephone and a red balloon…”

Daryl leaned against his lover as Rick read, following his finger as he said each word.

Rick read it through twice as he brushed fingers through Daryl’s hair with one hand and pointed out each word with the other. “You’re turn, darlin.”

Daryl sighed and rolled his eyes, taking the book in his own hands. He slowly sounded out each word, struggling over some of the longer ones. The reading was slow but steady, hesitant but hopeful. As Daryl read he realized how much he yearned for Rick’s praise. How much the other man’s kind, southern drawl and encouraging words calmed him. 

“We’ll get you ready for school,” Rick said. “You can do anything you put that pretty mind to.”

Daryl curled into Rick and hugged his waist. “I wouldn’t be able to do anything if it weren’t for you.”

“You’re strong and smart, Daryl, you’d have learned everything again. I’m just damn glad I was the one that got to do the honors.”

Rick kissed his lover’s forehead and before they knew it hands had shifted, clothes were shed, and bodies tangled together. Daryl breathed Rick in, drowning himself in Rick’s scent as they made out like teenagers, writhing together, bodies aligned and hot against one another, skin tingling and stomachs sinking with the excitement of their oncoming orgasms.

They read more afterwards while they were naked and sweat-soaked, cuddled in one another’s arms, Rick pressing soft kisses to Daryl’s forehead.

After an evening filled with conversation and comfort, Daryl had to head home. They lingered in the car, both procrastinating with gentle kisses. Eventually they managed to part ways, Daryl stepping out of the vehicle and heading for the stairs that now replaced the ramp.

As he hobbled on his cane he wondered, and not for the first time, whether he ever got any praise in his first life. The feel of it was so foreign. Something he maybe craved for and never got -- a special treat. He’d wondered whether he should visit his father in prison. It _was_ his father, after all. But until he remembered better it would just be a man in a jail, someone he didn’t know. As ill at ease as he felt at retrieving his memories, he still wanted to understand his past. 

Daryl returned home and opened the door, walking smack dab into a flash of memory.

_He was small, just a boy, and he was hiding under his bed, panting and shaking. He heard the man who was his father yelling. “I’ll fucking find you, you little son of a bitch. I done told you to mow that lawn. You’re man enough to smoke my cigarettes then your man enough to mow.” Under the bed he felt small and helpless, frustrated and trapped. He heard the sound of a belt sliding out of it’s loops and it gave him chills as goosebumps peppered his arms and legs. Suddenly a hand reached under the bed and dragged him out. He heard the sounds of the belt whipping him and almost felt the pain before the memory was over._

Daryl stood shaking as Merle walked into the room with a beer. 

“What’s the matter, kid?”

“I remembered something,” Daryl said blankly.

Merle shook his head and looked down as if he already knew what kind of memory it was. “Bad one I assume?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Dixon’s ain’t got no good memories.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Id love to hear what everyone thought about Sunday’s episode!


	9. The Future’s Uncertain

Two weeks later, Daryl was at home on his couch with Rick by his side when he slid into another memory. 

_Merle was sitting beside him, much bigger compared to Daryl’s ten-year-old frame. “Don’t listen to him,” Merle had said. “You ain’t what he says. You’re a good kid and fuck him. Don’t you never listen to what he says to you.”_

“You remembering something?” Rick asked, noticing Daryl’s sudden silence. 

“Just a little.”

They had an old rerun of M*A*S*H on TV and Daryl was cuddled against his lover. “I could do this,” Daryl sighed.

“Do what?” Rick asked with a smile and a trail of fingers through his hair. 

“Just be. Just be in the world with you by my side. I just hope that...things don’t go bad.”

Rick sat up and turned to focus on Daryl. “Like what things?”

Daryl shrugged. “Like how my pa ended up hating me so much. Maybe there’s something wrong with me and you won’t see it til you been around me a while.”

“Don’t you dare think like that, sweetheart. You are an amazing person. Merle says that and he’s ‘been around a while’. Who are you gonna listen to? A bitter worn-out drunk or...well… ummm a less bitter quasi-drunk who loves you?”

“Merle’s just a protective older brother…”

“Don’t you question what I see. I see a brave young man who’s struggled his whole life to be himself. And now you are. And I love who you are.”

Before Daryl could argue, Rick leaned in and kissed him gently. Nothing forceful, nothing fast. Just slow, languid pecks to Daryl’s dry lips as their noses rubbed together intimately, their breaths mingled and matching like they were one.

“Oh Christ. That’s disgusting!” Merle blurted out.

Rick backed away, trying to suppress a smile. “Didn’t realize you were such a homophobe, Merle.”

“Whatever. I’d be puking whether he was gushing all over you or some girl. Keep the tongue hockey in the bedroom. I don’t care who you are.”

“Ah, just not a fan of PDA,” Rick said in understanding.

“Have some class,” Merle said to Rick.

Daryl and Rick burst out laughing and Merle just narrowed his eyes and growled. 

“You have no idea how lucky you are that Pa’s in the joint.”

They all started to focus on Radar and Hawkeye when Daryl suddenly asked. “Was it just me?”

“Just you what?” Merle asked.

“Just me that he hated?”

Merle sighed and leaned back in his chair. “He hated everyone, kid. Don’t let those bits and pieces of memory shape you. You’re you, kid. You ain’t his no more. Neither of us are.

Rick took Daryl’s hand and squeezed. “Why is it so easy for you to believe your old man and it’s so hard for you to believe me and Merle?”

It wasn’t rhetorical. It was an honest-to-God question.

Daryl shrugged. “It’s easier to feel bad than to feel good.”

“That’s it. We’re going to a ballgame tomorrow. You need a pick-me-up,” Rick announced.

“What? I need a damn pick-me-up, too. I got all my memories, man. Don’t I get something for that!?” Merle whined.

“I’ll get you a ticket too, Merle,” Rick said with an eyeroll. “But keep in mind. I’m gonna be holding your brother’s hand and if the Kiss Cam hits us I’m going in for one.”

Daryl snorted with a laugh.

“Fine,” Merle conceded. “But I want beer and a dog, too.”

“Done.”  
\------------------------------

The ball game was...okay. Daryl moped unconsciously most of the time while Merle and Rick argued over everything from foam fingers to the best outfielders of all time to the Brave’s chances at the play-offs.

Despite the smell of the freshly mowed field and the cheers from the crowd, Daryl kept thinking about his life. Would he always be just half a person or would all his memories eventually come back? He felt incomplete without a full childhood. It seemed as though he didn’t fully understand how he became the person that he was.

“Daryl, you’re not here,” Rick said tenderly. 

“I’m here,” Daryl smiled. “Just thinking a little.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot, sweetheart. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Daryl looked over to make sure Merle was watching the game and tuning them out. 

“You know, it just feels like I can’t give you all of myself until I _am_ all of myself. Until I know my past.”

Rick’s eyes softened, and he smiled cautiously. “I’ll take whatever I can get whenever you’re ready.”

“I just feel like…” Daryl’s sentence died in his throat. 

“Daryl? Have you considered going to visit him? See if it jogs any memories?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Merle asked, suddenly completely focused on Rick and Daryl’s conversation.

“Maybe visiting Pa in prison to see if it helps with my memory,” Daryl explained.

Merle threw down his foam finger. “Goddamnit, boy. I done told you he’s bad news. He’ll just try to make you feel like shit about yourself and you have enough self-esteem issues already. Fuck him. Fuck those memories.”

“You don’t understand, Merle. I don’t feel _real_. I feel like half of me is missing.”

Merle sighed as Rick placed a loving hand on Daryl’s knee.

“I can go with you,” Rick offered.

“Back off Casanova. This is something I’ll need to do with him. It’s our childhood.”

“Fair enough,” Rick nodded. “But I’ll be waiting in the parking lot.”

“When can we do it?” Daryl asked. “Cause I’m ready.”

Once it was settled to visit the following Saturday, Daryl tried to focus on the game and his boyfriend. The afternoon passed by peacefully as the Braves pulled ahead and won -- seven to three.

Rick drove on the way home while Merle was sprawled out in the back seat working on the beginnings of a hangover.

“Can’t believe we’re gonna waste our time listening to the old man again. I already done heard enough of him to last a lifetime. ‘You’re worthless, Merle. You’re nothing, ain’t gonna be nothing. Ain’t gonna…”

“Merle, enough,” Rick snapped. “Don’t get him worked up.”

“I’m fine,” Daryl insisted. “In fact, I’m looking forward to it. There’s bars between us. He can’t hurt me.”

Merle sat up and stuck his head between the two front seats. “That’s the thing, baby brother. He has a way of hurting you with just his words.”

“I’m stronger than you think, Merle,” Daryl insisted. 

They pulled up to the trailer and Merle beat both Rick and Daryl to the front door. As Daryl walked in after him he was hit with a memory. THE memory. An angry, sweating, loud old man in a wife-beater shirt reeking of beer. Daryl stopped in his tracks as the memory washed over him. 

“Pa?” he said, unconsciously.


	10. I'd Better Go

The memory drowned him.

_Daryl opened the front door of his shabby trailer, his backpack over one shoulder and his leather jacket in one hand. He heard the crashing of glass and the cursing before he even made his way to the kitchen, and his stomach clenched in fear at the thought of another ‘episode’._

_He dropped his book bag at the front door, noticing the bruises still coloring his wrists from the week before when the old man had held him down, spittle flying as he accused Daryl of being a faggot. While trying to make a quick run to his bedroom, he knocked over a beer bottle sitting on the edge of a folding tray that was set up in the living room. As the glass shattered against the sticky floor, Daryl froze. The old man stopped his rampage on the refrigerator and turned to his son._

_“‘The fuck have you been?” he growled._

_“School, Pa,” Daryl answered with a hint of sass to his tone._

_“You sassin’ me boy?”_

_“No, Pa. Got homework to do so…”_

_“You tryin’ to be better than me? You think cause you still in school you know better than your old man? ‘S that what you’re sayin?”_

_Daryl knew better than to try to answer at all. He just stood, frozen and silent. He knew a beating was coming no matter what he did. It was inevitable._

_The old man came marching into the living room, standing close enough to Daryl that the younger man could smell the liquor._

_He pulled something out of his back pocket and threw it at Daryl. Looking down at the floor as it fell, Daryl saw that it was the copy of GQ he’d pilfered from the corner store. The pages containing his favorite pictures were dog-eared and well worn from the past six months of using it to jack off._

_“I knew you was a fucking faggot,” the old man said as he swung at Daryl with a clenched fist and knocked him to the ground. “Not in my house. Not under my roof,” Pa slurred. “You is as useless as you was when you were shitting in your own pants and sucking your thumb. Goddamn fucking piece of shit…”_

_As he continued the cursing he began kicking Daryl. The ribs. The shin. His head. Daryl curled into the fetal position and covered his head for protection. “Pa no! It ain’t what you think!” Daryl shouted, even though it was exactly what the old man thought._

_Daryl was pulled up to kneeling position by his hair. “Look at this fucking faggot hair. You gonna grow boobs now too yah pussy?” And then they came, one hard punch after another, connecting with Daryl’s face, his ear, the back of his skull. He wiggled and squirmed, trying to get out of his father’s grasp. He swung his fists blindly, trying to fight back to no avail._

_“I’ll beat the gay out of you, boy. I’mma beat you so hard you won’t even remember your name, Darylena.”_

_Daryl could feel every punch, the blinding pain of each connection. He felt small, helpless. He was seventeen -- how could he still be overpowered by the intimidating man above him? Each new punch sickened his stomach until he was retching at his father’s feet._

_“You Goddamn pussy,” Pa growled with renewed anger, staring at his only pair of boots, now covered in what little bit of lunch Daryl had managed to find and eat._

_“I hate you, you little fuck. I shoulda beat your momma harder when she told me she was pregnant.” And the swings got harder, knuckles hit cheekbones and jawlines. The hair that the old man was gripping so hard finally ripped out, causing a flash of pain. His eyes shot open long enough to see the last punch before he collapsed -- unconscious to the ground._

Rick had an arm around Daryl. “What is it? A memory?” he asked. “You’re shaking.”

“Daryl, you okay?” Merle said as he snapped his fingers in front of his brother’s blurry eyes.

“He...he...he really wanted to kill me.”

Merle and Rick helped Daryl walk on unsteady feet to the couch. 

“The punches wouldn’t stop, the yelling, my hair. He ripped out some of my hair he was hitting me so hard. I can almost feel the pain again.”

“He’s in jail now,” Merle reminded him. Rick went to the kitchen and came back with a cool rag to rest across Daryl’s forehead. 

“I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed. It was so _vivid_. I could _smell_ him.”

“You still want to waste your time visiting him?” Merle asked.

Daryl looked at both men, blinking back the last of his tears. “Yes.”

\-------------------------------------------

It was Saturday and Merle was driving Rick and Daryl to the prison. 

“HIs words might sting, sweetheart, but you know now that none of what he says is true,” Rick said as he stroked through the other man’s long hair.

“You win, Daryl,” Merle added. “He tried to kill you and you won. You’re free and he’s in prison. You got a chance to become yourself without his influence.”

“This is who you are, Daryl,” Rick said. “A good man. Strong. Loved. You’re what I see, not what he sees.

“Jesus, guys. Laying it on a little thick aren’t you? I’ll be fine. I don’t even really _know_ the guy. Only snippets of memory. I just need to face him. It’s like closing a chapter, y’know?”

“Makes sense,” Rick said. “I just don’t have to like it.

As they approached the large building and drove through the gates, Daryl’s stomach tightened with nerves. He wasn’t afraid, just hesitant. This was his father, the man who raised him. The man who hated him. This visit wasn’t meant to give the old man another shot at tearing Daryl down. It was for Daryl to let his father know that he’d escaped the violence and abuse and now lived without a hint of Will Dixon’s influence.

Merle pulled into a parking place and looked towards Rick in the back seat. “You wanna wait here while we go in?”

“Merle, no,” Daryl said. “I want to go alone. Just me.”

“Y’know, all your life I been protecting you the best I can. Hate for you to go in there without me.”

“This is something I need to do myself, Merle.” And Daryl meant it. It was a very personal journey for him and this was the last stop for unloading unnecessary baggage. His father wasn’t going to hang around his neck like a noose. It would end today.

Merle and Rick obeyed Daryl’s wishes and waited in the car, watching carefully as Daryl made his way to the entrance of the prison.


	11. Break on through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this is posting late!!!

Daryl sat alone in the visiting room as he waited for the guards to bring his father. The silence was deafening and Daryl suddenly felt trapped, much like he did when he first came out of the coma so many months ago. The room echoed from a door opening behind him and Daryl turned around to face a man who looked like the images from his choppy memory.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” the man growled. “What the hell do you want?”

Daryl sat wordless for a moment as he absorbed the instant hatred. This man hated Daryl. He could feel it.

“Wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk about what? How you’re a fucking pussy that couldn’t take a beating like a man? You know it’s your fault I’m in here you son of a bitch!”

Daryl smiled. It was almost funny how miserable a man this was. He hated -- hated everyone, everything, even his own self.

“I’m not like you, Pa,” Daryl said softly.

“Ain’t that the truth. I ain’t no fairy.”

Daryl nodded and bit at his bottom lip. “Your right, I’m gay.”

“Pissin’ all over the Dixon name. I should have finished you off.”

“I think the Dixon name may have already been soiled.”

Will Dixon tried to stand before a guard rested a hand on his shoulder and Daryl flinched at the sudden movements. 

“You want to know what you done to me?” Daryl asked. “You put me in the hospital...where I met the love of my life. You did that. So thanks in a weird sort of way.”

Will looked angry, but he stayed silent.

“I remember now. I remember how you always treated me like I was an inconvenience. Like I was worthless...nothing. You hurt me with those words, more than with your fists.” Daryl swallowed a lump in his throat before he continued. “But you know what I found out? That’s you not me. I _mean_ something. I _am_ someone. And I know that now.”

“Is that what your little faggot friend tells you? He’s using you. Everyone uses people to get what they want. You got nothing, boy.”

Daryl stood and smiled. “I have everything I ever wanted,” he said with confidence and he walked out of the room with his head held high.

\----------------------

Later that night, Rick and Daryl sat out on the porch under the moonlight while Merle remained inside the house blaring the TV, the sounds of a laugh track dancing among the stars.

“He seemed so little to me today. This towering bastard who used fists to communicate ever since I was born. He was so big in my memories, so menacing. But today, having you like I do now, it was easy to pity him for the pathetic life he’s led.”

“I’m so glad, baby. You deserve to be free now,” Rick answered, a hand caressing Daryl’s back gently.

“You know what’s best about closing that chapter?”

“What’s that?”

“There’s nothing holding me back,” Daryl said. “I’m free to do whatever I want.”

“And what do you want?” Rick asked.

“You.” Daryl ran a hand up Rick’s thigh and leaned in for an unrushed kiss. They had all the time in the world to love one another, had everything they needed to belong together. Daryl was now whole -- he was complete -- and he was ready to give it all to Rick. His past was remembered, his present was perfect and his future could be anything he wanted it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a surprise! I numbered my chaps wrong! I have an epilogue that will post tomorrow!


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to lotr58 for the idea and for the beta!!

“Just try it. Aaaaahh. Aaaahh like apple. Aaaahh like alphabet,” Daryl said with encouragement.

Glenn, the young Korean with the massive head trauma, parted his lips and croaked out an unintelligible sound. 

“You’re getting it. You feel that catch?” Daryl asked excitedly. He loved those moments where something clicked for his patients. And he still remembered when that had happened for him all those years ago. It was what propelled him on his path; finishing high school, going to college, and becoming a speech therapist like Carol. 

Daryl’s life was more than he could have expected. With Rick’s encouragement and love he was able to do whatever he put his mind to. It wasn’t lost on him that his coma was the best thing that could’ve happened to him and he often had nightmares of being the beaten, frightened child that he once was. But more often than not he had dreams -- dreams of his future -- of Rick and the child they were trying to adopt, of Merle’s successful carpentry business, of family traditions and happy moments.

“Let’s try again. Aaaaple. Aaaaa.”

Before Glenn could even begin to make an attempt, Rick sprang into the room with a stress ball. “My turn, darlin’” he sang.

“Listen, Glenn. Don’t worry about rushing to talk again. This is about taking our time,” Daryl explained. “And you wouldn’t get a word in edgewise with this guy, anyway.”

“Awww, come on now. You love me anyways, don’t you?” Rick pouted. 

Daryl took the stress ball in his right hand and squeezed once for yes, then threw it at Rick’s forehead. “Get my boy here moving, will yah?” Daryl asked as he patted Glenn’s foot. 

Before Daryl could get out the door, Rick turned back to him. “Hey, what’s for dinner tonight?”

“I dunno, whatcha cooking?” Daryl answered. 

“‘S your turn.”

“No it ain’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“Aaaahh,” Glenn added and both men showered their attentions and praise on their patient.

That night after an ordered-in pizza, Daryl snuggled up to Rick on the couch like they did every night. 

“Let’s go to bed early,” Daryl whined.

“Why? You tired, Darlin?”

“No. It’s just you always take care of me. I wanna take care of you tonight,” Daryl purred. 

Rick licked his lips and smiled at Daryl, the love pouring out of him so strongly it was capable of knocking the younger man over. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’m all yours.”

In the bedroom, Daryl started unbuttoning his husband’s shirt, unzipping his pants, and peeling clothes off until Rick was standing there bare, head-to-toe, skin glowing a soft golden glow from the light of the setting sun. Daryl stood before him fully dressed, feeling like the caretaker instead of the one taken care of. “Lie on the bed,” he instructed the older man. “I’m gonna massage you and you’re gonna relax.”

“Yes, boss,” Rick responded with a huff of laughter.

Daryl walked around the bed, enjoying the view; firm ass, strong legs, narrow frame, messy curls. “I love you,” Daryl whispered as he put his hands on Rick’s back. He pressed his thumbs into his shoulders. “You’re my world.”

Rick turned over and took Daryl’s face in his hands. “And you’re mine.”

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” Daryl whined, running his hands softly over Rick’s chest. 

“Sorry,” Rick said. He kissed Daryl softly then laid down on his back, still keeping that leisurely, comfortable, eye contact. 

Daryl sat on the bed arching over Rick, running a finger over each nipple and down his happy trail. “I’m gonna make you so glad you’re mine.”

“I’m already glad,” Rick answered, a hand sneaking up Daryl’s jeans. “Get undressed and crawl into bed with me? Please. I need to feel you against me.”

Once skin was against skin their adoring kisses turned into a tangle of bodies, a merging of minds, a oneness and a love so fierce it could make a lonely, abused child feel revered.

Daryl was once a timid, frightened boy -- a lonely child desperate to be seen who grew into a disgruntled teen who thought the whole world was against him. But in the worst moment of his dark, desperate life, he was given a second chance at life and it was all he needed to become the man he always wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to hear from you all as the story continues!  
> Posting Schedule: Sun/Tue/Thu


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